We were talking about Alaska last weekend, and I dug up some of my journals of my trips to different parts of Alaska with Ben, a bush pilot I was hanging out with over a period of about three years.
Here are some entries from the Copper Mountain trip I took with him in October of 1992. He was flying provisions and people into a gold mining operation in the distant mountain regions that border Alaska and Canada. It was an adventure......beautiful, cold and involved some pretty fancy flying. Ben was such a good pilot and so experienced that I didn't feel much apphrehension as we wound through the snow covered peaks and valleys, banking and twisting to arrive at the small landing strip on
plane skis.
.
Coming up the Matanuska Valley, I saw a little red "Beaver" plane going the opposite direction. One bright red speck against all that white and black hugeness.
The valley was so gorgeous and silent, and I really liked the gold mining crew. The men worked long brutal hours and two women cooked for them....wonderful food...homemade bread and cookies and huge meals. A lot of the miners were college kids from the lower 48 or rough and tough older Alaskan men and women. They weren't supposed to transport alcohol, but there was a lot of that plus canoodling between some of the men and women. Ah, those long cold nights.
As I mentioned, the landscape was breathtaking, but one thing that shocked me was the total lack of concern for the environment. All the cyanide tailings were trailing into the creek. Gold mining is a curse on the environment, and I saw many rugged Alaska individuals spoil the bounty of the country with trash and disregard for environmental consequences.
I think I put this in an earlier entry, but it was such a part of the trip I'll put it again.
The lights were so spectacular, and I was half awake and shivering in the 4am....it seems like a dream. The lights even made a sound....like the crackle of cellophane.
Ben and I took several trips, and each one was a revelation to me. I got over my fear of flying. Period.
Several years after we stopped seeing each other, Ben went down with his plane in Yakatat Bay. They found his body a few weeks later.
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